


across the boundary of years and life

by ShadowSpires



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: But nothing too overt, Gen, Kamino, awful implication of dehuminization
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-28
Updated: 2016-10-28
Packaged: 2018-08-27 15:00:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 288
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8406190
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ShadowSpires/pseuds/ShadowSpires
Summary: Why were there baby clones in tanks in Attack of the Clones, when they should have all been near-fully grown by then? Deep in the night, CC-6845 says a long overdue hello.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Olorisstra](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Olorisstra/gifts).



> Also on tumblr (http://shadow-spires.tumblr.com/post/152438517704/title-across-the-boundary-of-years-and-life)

It was only CT-6845’s second rotation into the main facility at Tipoca city. The last had been when he was only four, still wide-eyed at the idea that he might actually catch a glimpse of the Template or maybe even a Jedi like the one he would eventually belong to. Now, nine and almost fully grown, the echoes of that excitement still ripple through him. Maybe this time the Jedi would be here. He and his brothers weren’t fully completed yet, but they were getting close to fully operational and surely the Jedi would have to come soon. But it’s not excitement that sends him stealing out of his bunk in the dead of night, to return to a place he had found on that first rotation, too keyed up to sleep.

The light filtered through the developing fluid as it moved, giving the semblance of life to the little brothers encased in it.

Unmoving, unchanging, never to walk, to fight, to join brothers in battle.

Something defective in the process, but not physical, leaving them perfect enough to be put on display, but not perfect enough to live. The little tag he had seen by accident, a literal one in billions chance, 6844, indicating what his designation would have been.

CT-6845 leaned against the tank, pressing his forehead against the cool surface in the greeting he would never be able to properly offer.

“Hello again, little brother,” he said, nine years old and not sure if he was glad or sad that this little brother had already marched away.

Though could he truly, when his body was kept here, empty of self, nothing more than a showpiece for the Kaminoan’s clients?

Nothing more than product on display.


End file.
